


The Things We Know, The Things We Don't

by angeloncewas



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Kid Wilbur Soot, Pre-Canon, Sparring, Technoblade is Bad at Feelings (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot Has Daddy Issues, Worried Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), he's not a little kid though, just explaining wilbur's issues yk, much much later, no beta we die like wilbur does, this is not phil bashing!, worried is so specific
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29397057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeloncewas/pseuds/angeloncewas
Summary: #5 on Ghostbur's list -Things I Remember- "Sparring with Techno as a kid."(A memory from long before Wilbur stepped foot onto the SMP)-“I don't think your dad would appreciate me entertaining myself by skewering you.”Wilbur scoffs. “Like he’d care.”
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Technoblade & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade
Comments: 12
Kudos: 93





	The Things We Know, The Things We Don't

**Author's Note:**

> Title from & by Tally Hall, see also:  
>  _They took a lesson from their fathers/Told them that they were the same command_

“Fight me.”

Wilbur’s cheeks are puffed in a slight pout, fierce determination flickering behind his eyes. He holds a sword out to Technoblade in silent offering and is met with only a blank stare.

“Why... would I do that?” Techno drawls.

Wilbur seems to look him up and down, harshly critical for his small stature and spindly limbs.

“Because you’re bored?”

_Good answer._

“You’re not wrong,” Techno takes the sword and grips its hilt in a practiced hand. “But I don’t think your dad would appreciate me entertaining myself by skewering you.”

Wilbur scoffs. “Like he’d care.”

Techno feels slightly taken aback by the certainty in Wilbur’s tone. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to do with it.

This house is a rest stop for Techno; Phil had suggested he take shelter in on his way to their meeting place.

He was warned that Wilbur would be here, but not of this, not of the challenge in every step he takes.

“You... you know he would, right?” Techno ventures.

Wilbur picks at the hem of his sweater and shrugs. “I don’t want to talk about my feelings with you. I wanna spar.”

Fine by him. “Do you think you could win?”

“If you go in expecting failure, you will fail.”

“Ohh-kay.”

Wilbur’s attitude is slightly unsettling, something dark lurking behind his calm expression. Phil, if he was around, would immediately shut the idea down.

Techno knows he should too, but the proposition is tempting. He’s spent the last few days walking with no company other than some passing wolves and his reflexes have hardly been put to test against the occasional skeleton.

He sighs dramatically, as though he’s been given some terrible burden, and stands up.

“One match?” he offers.

“Best of three,” Wilbur insists, unfazed.

“...Fine. Get ready.”

* * *

Techno watches Wilbur with wary eyes. A memory flits across his vision, a bundle of warmth and blankets in Phil’s arms. It disappears before he can register it.

“You ready?” he calls down across the field, answered by a miniscule nod. “Alright.”

The two of them circle each other slowly, Techno with his casual gait and Wilbur curled like a startled animal.

Techno’s not sure if he should act; there’s no real code of conduct for casual sparring with friends’ kids.

Wilbur, meanwhile, seems to have no such reservations. He rushes close and swings first, catching Techno off-guard. The clash of their swords leaves Techno’s ears ringing and he tries to shake out the sound on instinct, faltering when Wilbur swings again and he has to jump out of the way.

Techno realizes, as he sluggishly parries Wilbur’s near-frantic attack, that he has set himself up to lose.

His mind is too unsteady, caught on a passing insect and the rustle of greenery underfoot. This isn’t the kind of fight he’d assumed they’d be having.

Techno had opted out of armor, expecting to have to soften his blows. Wilbur is fighting like they've met on a battlefield.

Sharp clangs of metal punctuate the air as Techno keeps up for as long as he can - just because he sees defeat doesn’t mean he’ll give in to it - but one brief fixation on a flutter of movement over Wilbur’s shoulder later, he’s missed the matching hit to a blow.

Wilbur knocks him back and presses a knee to Techno’s chest, forcing his sword out of his hand as he levels his own against Techno’s throat. Techno keeps his breathing shallow.

“My point,” Wilbur mutters.

Techno blinks. “You earned it.”

Wilbur removes the blade and Techno rubs his neck slowly, feeling the echo of the press of iron.

He’s underestimated Wilbur. The last time they met, he hadn’t cared to do much more than play music and tend to the animals. The boy’s clearly been practicing.

A hand reaches down to help him up and Techno takes it out of respect only to feel himself being pulled. Wilbur drags him forward so that their eyes meet.

“If I win,” he says seriously, “you have to do something for me.”

Techno disentangles himself from Wilbur’s grip and stands up, his height forcing Wilbur to crane his neck. “What do you want?”

“I’m not telling you until I win.”

Techno huffs out a laugh. “No deal.”

“Why?” A bit of a whine slips into his Wilbur’s voice and Techno rolls his eyes.

“You could ask for anything,” he chides.

“But I _won’t_.”

“I’m not stupid, Wilbur.”

Wilbur pauses and Techno can almost hear the thoughts bouncing around the boy’s head.

Techno’s a fighter, not so much a diplomat, but he’d like to think he can hold his own against someone this inexperienced. Wilbur’s a sheltered kid; Techno’s pretty sure he’s never even left Phil’s small cottage home.

“You are scared, though,” Wilbur says, finally.

“Heh?”

“You wouldn’t be worried about the deal if you didn’t think you were gonna lose.” Wilbur examines the silver gleam of his sword with a careless air about him. “It’s a shame, really.”

Normal circumstances don’t do much to rile up Techno. He can fix up flooded crops and care for wild horses and fight off hordes of mobs without care or complaint.

This is different. He’ll never let weakness be assigned to him.

Something under Techno’s skin flares red and he picks his sword up off the ground.

“If it’s something stupid, I’m refusing,” he growls.

“Phil’s always told me you’re a man of your word,” Wilbur sing-songs back with a grin.

_Phil’s gonna kill me._

* * *

Wilbur bounds back over to his side of their makeshift arena - a patch of grass they’ve marked off ambiguously - as Techno concentrates.

The sword isn’t his usual weapon. It’s a touch unbalanced, so his swings need to be softer. He practices twice before steadying himself.

The field has slight dips and valleys, the wind is soft and sporadic, Wilbur places too much weight on his left side.

Wilbur signals at him to start and the world blurs at the edges, awareness trickling down to his fingertips. Wilbur’s beanie sits like a matador’s red flag and Techno can see the exact path to victory.

Only a minute and a half and one missed jab later, Techno knocks Wilbur’s sword away and surges forward.

He doesn’t look scared as Techno pins him, just crestfallen.

“How?” he whispers.

Techno shrugs. “Technoblade never dies.”

Wilbur relaxes slightly, dropping his head back onto the grass and outstretching his arms. “I’ve heard that before.”

“And you wouldn’t have if I wasn’t good.”

“Fair point.”

Techno moves his weapon away and glances over at the horizon. Birds paint themselves black with shadow as they flock across the skyline, the sun only just beginning to set.

He nudges Wilbur’s leg with his foot. “Hey. You have one more shot.”

“Nah,” Wilbur shakes his head, the light across his face making him look even younger than he is. “I’d just be wasting your time.”

“It wouldn’t last long enough to be a waste.”

“Well _alright_ then,” Wilbur scoffs, but there’s no bite behind it.

He pats the grass next to him and Techno hesitates before giving in. Sitting down, he lays the sword beside him gently and rolls his shoulders back, still cautious.

“Good game. You've improved a lot.”

Wilbur nods, eyes fixed on the frozen blue above as his shoulders rise and fall visibly.

“If I won, I was gonna make you tell Phil to come home,” he admits.

Techno’s heart squeezes a little, something painful behind years of hardened edges. He’d expected something more obvious. Mercenary work, a weapon, some gold.

Not a _father._

“Look, I-” Techno starts.

“It's okay,” Wilbur cuts him off with a dismissive wave.

_Is it, though?_

There’s something in Wilbur’s face, a fighter’s grimace across soft, human features, that feels painfully familiar to Techno. He knows it and he’s come to terms with it, he just doesn’t know how to handle it on someone else.

Especially when he’s going to leave soon and meet up with its cause.

Techno’s never wondered why Phil agreed to come with him in his quest to conquer the world. Everyone has their motives after all, all men want something more.

Now, he’s forced to.

What motives are there between blood smeared across their hands and stories of a childhood Phil has only spoken of fondly?

Why’s Phil _leaving his kid behind?_

Wilbur seems to catch the confliction across his face and shrugs again before shutting his eyes. “Someday,” he says quietly. “I'll do something so big, he'll have to pay attention.”

In that moment, Techno’s not _Technoblade,_ or a guest in Wilbur’s house, or even Phil’s friend. He’s just a guy who won a fight against someone who wanted it more.

“I hope I’m there to see it,” he replies, gruffly.

Wilbur grants him the slightest of smiles in return.

**Author's Note:**

> All in all:
> 
> \- I try so hard, but when my fics need active dialogue they always come out so clunky  
> \- I think it's because I'm a poet first and foremost  
> \- Hope you enjoyed anyway :')  
> \- Check out my Tumblr? Same @, it's fun over there


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